


The One with the Hospital Romance

by windsthatwhisper



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hospital, Alternate Universe - Medical, Blow Jobs, Hand & Finger Kink, Hand Jobs, M/M, Nurse!Patrick - Freeform, all the jobs, doctor!jonny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:54:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23230516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windsthatwhisper/pseuds/windsthatwhisper
Summary: But then Jonny came along, waltzing into his life and kicking out his legs as we went, like he had a big dick. (Spoiler alert: he did.)
Relationships: Patrick Kane/Jonathan Toews
Comments: 10
Kudos: 150
Collections: Social Distancing Together - a Hockey RPF Collection





	The One with the Hospital Romance

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little contribution to the Social Distancing collection. Written in the span of an hour. 
> 
> Please keep in mind that if you go to the doctor’s or the ER, I very highly doubt you’ll find two employees getting it on in a supply closet or on-call room. Do not let this deter your from going to the doctor.

“I leave you alone for five minutes and you’ve already called the SWAT team.” Jonny says as he takes off his mask and tosses it in the trash.

Patrick glares from where Sharpy is trying to bandage his arm — which is bleeding. Interesting. “I didn’t call SWAT. It’s just fifth floor security. Some guy grabbed a pair of scissors and threatened to chop off his own dick.”

The corner of Jonny’s mouth twitches in his amusement. “I see.”

Patrick continues to glare while Sharpy pokes and prods at his arm. “This sucks. You get to swoop in and deliver a baby while _I_ get stuck with a scissor-wielding maniac.”

Jonny leans against the reception desk, ignoring Dayna’s pointed look. Patrick’s eyes are obviously on Jonny’s, and in no way are they pointedly watching the way his biceps curl against his scrubs. Jonny has to get his pants tailored, because that ass don’t quit, but Patrick’s convinced he gets his scrub shirts tailored, too. He can see the outline of both Jonny’s pecs. They’re gorgeous pecs, really.

“It’s not every day a woman in labor comes in already crowning,” Jonny snorts, “That'll probably be the last time I deliver a baby in the ER.”

Patrick had gotten there right at the end — after dealing with the scissors guy — and had seen how tiny the baby was in Jonny’s humongous hands. Hands that Patrick knows by memory, has spent hours tracing and kissing, hours spent-

“I don’t think anything’s broken.” Sharpy announces. “You’re good to continue your nurse-ly duties.”

“Thanks,” Patrick drawls, returning the smile Jonny sends him. 

They’re sadly interrupted by a nurse coming over and handing Jonny a file. “Fourteen year old girl with asthma, complaining of shortness of breath. Her mom thinks she’s got the flu.”

Jonny takes the file and nods. He salutes Patrick with a goofy grin. “Duty calls.”

Patrick watches him go, eyes not-so-subtly pinpointed on Jonny’s ass. Sharpy moans in agony. “Yuck. Keep your bedroom eyes out of the ER.”

Patrick shrugs. “Fine.”

-

Jonny slams him hard against the door, pinning his arms high above his head. 

“Fuck,” Patrick moans, bucking his hips forward against Jonny’s, “Wear a fucking lab coat. Do you know how many people stare at your arms? Your _ass?”_

“I know _you_ do,” Jonny hums, sucking Patrick’s bottom lip between his teeth as he grinds down against Patrick.

Patrick breaks free of Jonny’s hold and wraps his arms around his neck, dragging him close enough to shove his tongue into his mouth. “And patients,” he says, “The other nurses. Doctors. Parents. Fucking everyone.” He snakes one arm down Jonny’s back, fingernails dragging down his spine, over the gigantic curve of his ass to grab a handful of asscheek that spills between his fingers. “Ass of gold, baby.”

Jonny gets a hand in Patrick’s hair and pulls, yanking his head back so he can mouth at the bit of clavicle peeking out from Patrick’s scrubs. “Suck me off.”

They’re in a fucking supply closet in the back of the ER, shifts over and already clocked out. They could be doing this in a _bed,_ at home in the confinement of one of their apartments, but _no._ His dumb exhibitionist of a boyfriend had to yank him in here and shove a hand down his pants because he’s an impatient motherfucker. Patrick would bite his dick off if he didn’t love it so much. 

“Pushy.” Patrick huffs, but sinks to his knees and pulls at the string tied in a pretty bow. 

Patrick hadn’t liked sucking cock before he met Jonny. Everyone he’d done it with was too insistent, fucked his mouth before he could handle it and always came without warning. (Granted, he was in high school, and high school boys know nothing about sucking dick, except the desperate need to fuck and get off.)

But then Jonny came along, waltzing into his life and kicking out his legs as we went, like he had a big dick. (Spoiler alert: he did.)

The first time Patrick had given him a blowjob, he was sure Jonny would be like the others and fuck his big cock down his throat. It’s fine. Patrick didn’t need his voice anyway. 

But Jonny wasn’t like that — as cliché as it is. He held Patrick by the back of the head, cradled his skull with one hand and carded the other through his curls, and let Patrick just breathe on his dick while he tried to get his wits together. Jonny had been calm, breaths heavy but even, as if he wasn’t being held together on a string like his dripping cock said he was. 

Patrick looks up at him now, squinting through the darkness as his eyes adjust. Jonny’s staring down at him like he was the first time, but this time he’s got a tight hand in Patrick’s hair and is guiding his cock into Patrick’s mouth. 

Patrick takes it willingly, and when Jonny’s hand drops to Patrick’s shoulder, he sucks in a deep breath through his nose and slides down to the root. Jonny grunts hard and shoves his cock in a little more. 

“Just like that,” Jonny whispers, head falling back against the metal racks.

Patrick pinches his thigh in an effort to keep him quiet. Patrick thought that _he_ was mouthy in bed, but when Jonny gets going, he lets it be known. Patrick doesn’t want to get fired because someone catches him with Jonny’s dick down his throat because Jonny was making too much noise. Jonny likes to gag him when he gets too loud, but Patrick’s about five feet away from Jonny’s mouth, and he’s not stopping for anything.

“Pretty fucking mouth,” hisses Jonny, thumbing at Patrick’s bottom lip, still swollen from where Jonny had sucked on it, “Just for me.”

Patrick pulls off long enough to say, “Quiet, asshole,” before going down again.

Jonny moans, but after that, stays quiet. He’s unraveling fast, so Patrick moves his hands from Jonny’s hips to the backs of his thighs, settling on his knees before pushing Jonny’s hips forward. Jonny gets the hint and grips Patrick’s hair in two tight handfuls now, widens his stance, and thrusts.

Patrick tries not to make any noise, but Jonny sets a fast, relentless pace right off the bat. He’s only got so long to breathe before Jonny’s big fucking dick cuts off his oxygen supply again. But he does what he can, tucks his teeth back and wiggles his tongue under the sensitive crown on every outstroke. 

“Peeks, baby,” Jonny moans, words punched out of him with each breath, “I’m gonna-”

Patrick makes a tiny noise of encouragement, swallowing hard around him on the next thrust in. Jonny grunts and spills down Patrick’s throat, keeping his head tight to his body so that his nose is buried in his pubes.

When he lets go, Patrick pulls off with an unnecessary _pop,_ because he’s a little shit and Jonny loves that sound. He’s ready to stick his hand in his pants and get what he needs, but Jonny pulls him to his feet and gathers him up, pressed nice and close to those gorgeous fucking pecs. “Put your hand on your dick.”

Well. He doesn’t need to be told twice. Patrick wraps a hand around himself, jacks himself once or twice to spread the precome around enough so that it’s not too rough. He’s started to get a rhythm going when Jonny puts his own hand around Patrick’s and jacks him off together.

Jonny’s hands are humongous. Like, almost as big as his ass. They’re thick and veiny, just long enough to get Patrick good when he’s got him pinned to the bed and writhing on his hand. Those fingers know exactly where his prostate is and get it every time. Patrick’s dick isn’t small, not by a long shot, but Jonny’s hands are so big that he can completely wrap it around Patrick’s cock and still have a couple centimeters. They’re _huge._

“Ohh,” Patrick moans, head thunking back against the door. He looks down at where Jonny’s moving both their hands up and down — because Patrick was putty the moment Jonny put his hand on him — and melts against the door. 

Jonny backs them up, away from the door, and moves his hand faster, tightening around the head. Patrick’s head falls forward, tucking himself into the juncture of Jonny’s neck and shoulder, panting hot against the skin there.

He jumps when he feels a slick finger probe at his hole, unaware that Jonny had found lube, or even stuck his hand down the back of Patrick’s scrubs. 

“Where-” he asks, and gasps when Jonny slips his middle finger inside, “Where did you find lube?”

Jonny puts his lips against the shell of his ear. “This is a supply closet in a teaching hospital,” he chuckles, “I knew there was lube.”

“This was your plan all along.” Patrick whimpers, grinding his hips forward into the tight channel of their hands when Jonny pushes a second finger inside. Patrick folds himself against Jonny, shaking as Jonny gets his prostate with the pads of his fingers. “Oh fuck.”

Jonny hums. “Mhm, followed you all the way from med school just to fuck you in a supply closet.”

Patrick grits his teeth until they ache to force himself to keep quiet as he comes all over their hands. Jonny’s smart enough to put some space between them so that it doesn’t get on their clothes. Patrick goes limp in Jonny’s arms, too busy trying to catch his breath to help Jonny wipe them down and redo their scrubs.

When he’s able to stand on his own again, Jonny licks his thumb and smooths over one of Patrick’s curls. “Your hair is a mess,” he laughs, then pets him softly. 

“And who’s fault is that, hm?” Patrick asks, straightening his scrubs as they leave the closet, “You say no pomade.”

“And I will live by my statement until the day I die.” Jonny tells him. 

Patrick rolls his eyes, but takes his hand as soon as they’re in the parking lot. “You owe me coffee and a back rub after that, you freak.”

Jonny only smiles at him as he pulls the car door open. “Whatever you want, babe.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me about hockey or The Resident on tumblr @ windsthatwhisper. Or anything else. I need friends


End file.
